Igniting the Heart
by TheWriterWhoCould
Summary: Peeta doesn't know what he is left with. He has been manipulated, lied to, and his heart has been extinguished of the fire it once held for Katniss. His understanding for her hesitant nature doesn't soothe the wound but when asked if he'd give her a second chance, only one answer comes to his mind clearly and that is truly what matters.
1. Chapter 1

**1**

I knead the bread between my palms as the sun rises over the trees. It's early, but I cannot sleep when the dreams keep clawing at me. The cries, the blood, and the emptiness heaving its way into those grey eyes once the end has slipped its into her body makes it so difficult for me to shut my eyes, to even want to sleep. I coat the counter with more flour but a small shadow makes my hands freeze. I smile as two little blonde braids come into view, a small pack strung behind her back. She lets herself in because I have told her she is more than welcome in my home. Even though things haven't gone as I had dreamed they would, she still feels like my family. It's not long before she is in the Kitchen setting her things down and walking to stand beside me.

"Katniss get a late start?" I ask, trying to seem as uninterested as possible. It's the game I play when I ask anyone about her. I can pry for a few minutes so it all seems harmless but I don't want her to know that I still care. I want her to think I moved on and in enough time maybe I might start to believe it myself. Prim is too smart though. She sees it, what I've been hiding since the cameras went off, but she never mentions it. She let's me indulge in something I will not win in and I am thankful for that.

"Yes, she didn't sleep too well last night. Mom wants to sneak syrup into her coffee." Prim responds.

"If I knew when she mashed it in that food, she'll know it's in her coffee." I comment.

"I think we'll take our chances. Grumpy, sleepless Katniss isn't always extremely pleasant to be around." She mumbles. I laugh at the way her face crumples at the thought of her sister whom knows to how be an immense terror when she wants to be. I want to tell Prim that even with sleeping syrup she'd still have the nightmares and that we victors have no chance of peace, but I hold my tongue. It is best that she thinks there is hope for us, that this cloud will eventually blow over.

"How many loaves did your mom want? I have three ready but I know she wants to send some with Katniss to Gale's house." I say, moving to the oven.

"I think she said something about six."

"And cheese buns, I made some fresh for...the house." I mutter.

"For Katniss you mean? She's the one that loves them." Prim says politely.

"Yeah, I know. What about you sunshine? I have cookies ready with pink flowers. I also made you some chocolate chip and apple tarts. Your mother is going to kill me when you come home with all of this." I state as I grab a basket from the cabinet and stack all of the food neatly inside. She smiles as she grabs the handle and her pack pausing in the doorway before she leaves.

"Could you teach me how to make cookies tomorrow? It's Sunday so she won't be home all day." Prim asks.

"Sure thing." I agree.

"And when you bring over the other loaves, mom wants to see that leg." Prim informs me.

"It's fine. It really is." I argue.

"Wear loose pants when you come over. My mom will have a look." She responds and leaves my house.

Katniss's family has gotten this habit of caring about me. Two weeks after the madness stopped and real life resumed, Prim had showed up on my doorstep barely before the sun started it's journey into the sky. I wasn't expecting to see anyone from that family even though we live three houses away, but she was there holding out stew her mom had made fresh the night before in the little bluish green dress I watched Katniss buy for her. I invited her in although I was worried about Katniss seeing her here. Would she think I was trying to persuade Prim to act on my account or did she really believe I was that angry with her, that I stopped loving her all together? She laid her presents out on the table and instead of dropping off my bread load to the house on my way in to town, I wrapped it up in a basket for her to take with her.

"I'm sorry about how things ended for you." Prim said so innocently, cautiously looking up at me as if I may say something hurtful or stalk away in irritation at her intrusion.

"It's fine. Katniss is a free spirit...you can't really hold her down now, can you?" I answer back, trying to be playful, trying not to break down in front of someone so young who shouldn't have to understand this.

"She doesn't know how to love anyone but me...and mom. I'm glad you love her though, because if I had to pick between you or Gale for her...I'd pick you. Thank you for the bread. Mom says she'll be making a portion of dinner for me to bring to you later, she doesn't like that you live alone and she doesn't think you eat anything but sweets and rolls." Prim says giggling.

"I eat with my family once a week. That's when I have real stuff." I say in a whisper and she giggles again.

"I best not tell mom that, she'd be hounding you over here whether Katniss liked it or not. She says since you take care of us, we are to look after you too. See you tomorrow Peeta." She finishes and quickly rushes out of the house.

That's the routine I have established with Prim and Katniss's mother. Prim leaves after Katniss's wakes up so Prim can come over fetch the daily haul of treats and bread from my house. I go over later to bring what I didn't have ready before I head into town or before I take care of whatever Haymitch needs. Katniss's mother always wants to check my leg when my limp gets noticeable or when she thinks I'm having trouble and then gives me what meat Katniss has designated for me. It's just astonishing to me that people can be like this, selfless. I guess after seeing so much hate I couldn't rationalize people just genuinely being nice, kind, or sweet.

Once Prim leaves, I go into my studio. The smell of paint and canvas sends me home, to the portion inside me that isn't wounded and still has faith. This new strategy I have concocted to heal is so strange to me. When I see Katniss, pass her on the street, I have this edge where nothing seems familiar. I try to pretend she is some girl that I barely know, that we are meeting for the first time and I have to keep my manners in order. It is so easy to be infuriated with her. How could you lie to someone who had done nothing but given you the truth about his intentions? I get that she doesn't understand, that maybe loving is something she has to work on, but to destroy someone who has the capacity to love for two people is nonsense to me.

The victory tour was coming. This Saturday morning would fade into the distance and I would be packed on a train. This time there wouldn't be only one person pretending to be in love. I wasn't sure if I knew how to love someone like I did before. I groan and shuffle my feet, remembering that I have food for Haymitch, and that even though he picked her and helped her manipulate me, I owe him. At the end of the day under all the hurt, I still care.

I get to the house and open the door, remembering not to inhale through my nose. Haymitch loves his filth and his drunk tendencies but I do not see the need for it. It will come in time, I think, when sending off the next tributes will get to me. Right now I am the tribute still, I don't have too many deaths on my hands. It surprises me when I see him sitting at his dinning room table, a glass clutched in his hand. He looks more sober than usual, the slight glassy glow in his eye had died down to a minimum. Sometimes I think he stops drinking to feel the pain again so he can justify the need to hit the bottle so often or he wants to bring back memories from the past. He looks over at me pointedly and takes a swig, the remnants of alcohol gliding down his chin.

"Sit, boy." Haymitch says, pointing to an open seat across from him.

I cross the room and sink into a seat, hoping this will end quickly. I am sure what ever comes out of his mouth is going to either offend me or make me upset, both of which I do not want to deal with.

"You have got to stop sulking. I have watched you continue to pout since the cameras left. So happily ever after didn't happen. She's alive, be grateful." Haymitch scolds. His eyes are fixed on me as if he expects me to just bow down and let him rule the way I feel about the entire situation. He thinks with a few of his "wise words" I would just forget. I don't that easily.

"I am glad she is alive but at one point someone should have tipped me off that everything was an illusion instead of thinking 'oh it's okay if Peeta gets hurt. He can take it because he'll be understanding. He is so blinded by his affection that he would walk over hot coals just to save her. Never mind that he might feel like someone exploded a bomb in his chest.'" I say, rage filling my words.

"And you think that if I sent you a note telling you the truth in that arena, that I didn't think she knew how to love anyone romantically, you would have still fought as hard to save her life." He spits back.

"You and I both know we picked her to come out of this thing. Knowing she didn't love me wouldn't have changed a damn thing. I would have sent her home but I probably wouldn't be sitting across from you. That is the only change to the present." I glare, his eyes scatter across my face. I don't know if I see a flash of empathy or if he needs to drink a little more but his mouth forms a hard line and I know the conversation is over.

"I don't know what that girl did to deserve it but love is not something she is exactly skilled at." Haymitch grumbles.

"I figured that much but...I don't think that changes anything." I say, sighing.

"You'd give her a second chance, wouldn't you?" Haymitch presses.

I shake my head and thrust my fist at the table, hoping the pain will wash over me and keep my thoughts from buzzing around in my head. I leave the bread on the table without slicing it for him, without another gesture. He laughs as I stomp across the room, the both of us highly aware of the unsaid words spinning around the ceiling. If Katniss ever let me in, if for one moment she could see what could happen if she just trusted me, things would change drastically. I would give her a second chance, and that kills me.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

The tea in my hand shakes. I dozed off for a few seconds but the dreams are still the same, no change in creativity, just another reminder of my greatest fears. I blink a few seconds and just stare at my wall until I am convinced I can stomach walking. My hand shoots down to my leg, the cool metal resting against the edge of my finger tips. The only thing I have to thank from the arena is now I have this bionic leg...I'm pretty sure I could make it into a weapon if I needed to. A knock comes and I lift myself off of the chair. It's late but I could never turn anyone away, even if I was thinking about hobbling up the stairs to get some rest, or whatever you call tossing between your sheets with your eyes closed.

"Sam." I say when I open the door. He is wearing that cheese grin on his face, skipping into my house like we didn't have a fight. I don't know why people cannot honestly believe I am angry with them. Do I have to adopt a growl or make sure I look unkept for people to take me seriously?

"Okay listen. I know what happened last week was, well I was more than pushy with that sensitive topic. Let's just sit in the living room and be adults." He whines.

"Fine. Right now you're the only friend I have...unless you count Katniss's little sister." I grumble.

We move into the next room and I can see Sam's leg fidget. It is the exact reaction he gets when he is about to lay something out on the table that you do not want to hear. He always looks nervous, limbs always bopping up and down. Obviously he hasn't given up on making me pissed at him. I should have turned off the lights at nine in order to keep people away or requested that my house in the victor's village had some imaginary force field around it so people would keep away unless I wanted them to be here. Instead I live in a world where friends believe their advice is like gold, funny thing is, I don't value anything materialistic.

"So obviously I would love to mend our arguments but honestly I think there is something much more important to be said." Sam starts.

"Nope, you've said enough already. Go home Sam." I respond, looking at my empty tea cup and wishing that there was scolding water in it to dump on his head.

"I haven't said enough at all. You've given up completely! So what Gale is around now, he didn't save her damn life by lying to those other tributes did he? Peeta you saved her, that isn't forgotten." Sam hammers.

"Yes, and she saved my life. It doesn't mean that you automatically fall in love with whom ever keeps you alive. She's made her choice. She doesn't try to talk to me and I'll be damned if I am going to pester her or make the first move. I think I've done quite enough to look desperate." I yell.

"You're not fighting for her, you are letting someone else win. God Peeta. At least be her friend, don't ignore her because you think that will help you get over this. You don't deserve to have someone you are not willing to go after. I spent so much time telling you she wasn't good enough for you after what went down when you two came home, but I think it is time I told you that you shouldn't get her either. Gale is probably fighting hard to keep her and you are just letting her go. Well, tell me how that one works out for you." Sam says, biting his lip. I sigh because he is probably right and I have never been stubborn but this time I can't seem to shake it from my bones. I let everything reach my ears and heart. I don't know if I can take this any farther with Katniss. If I fought and lost, I don't know if the damage would be too much. Sam does speak some truth and earlier so did Haymitch. These people, without me realizing it, have gotten to know how I operate, how I feel.

"Alright, Let me get through this damn victory tour first. If she doesn't kill me before I get home then I'll take another stab at this relationship thing." I answer, tapping my toes on the hard wood of the floor.

"I don't know her that well but I think you'll come home unscathed."

"HA! You really don't know her then...I might be in a pine box by the end. Out with you, I need to sleep." I respond, shooing him to the door. He tips his head and steps into the darkness, satisfied with how this whole meeting has gone.

Sam has been poking at me since I have decided to be cold toward Katniss. He seems to think that there is something more to her story, something she does not want to share. I think it's is stupid to put that much faith in a notion that is probably the both of us looking for anything to grab in the dark. It is so easy to let the anger build up, to let it flow through the veins without capping it off. The more I stay away, however, the more the dreams keep coming. My thoughts will not allow me to let go of her and maybe that is what angers me the most because she has this hold on me...this iron fist clamped to my heart. I don't think anyone who is carless about others feelings should be aloud to wield that much power.

I kick off the covers and sit upright, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I think I got a whole two hours of sleep this time but for some odd reason I want to walk outside, to just go anywhere else. I have made this house sort of a nightmare, a place where I can be honest, wounded, and bitter. I pull on my coat, the frost hitting the sleeves. It takes me a quick second to find my footing and walk through the victors village, ending up taking the road to my parents bakery. It surprises me when I see her, swaddle in a coat at the edge of shops. She's kicking a few stones but she doesn't see me at all and I decide I do not want her too. I slip behind the stone of the bakery and stand by the window, hoping Luther is as restless as I am.

"I was waiting for you to catch her." I hear a voice say next to me.

"Give me a heart attack, why don't you. Isn't bad enough I'm missing a leg?" I mutter, the smoke from my breathe dripping into the air.

"Then you'd have a fancy new metal heart straight from the capitol." He jokes.

"Yeah, more things to figure out how to use ...wait what do you mean you'd wonder when I'd catch her? This has happened more than once?" I ask, watching as Katniss disappears completely. I turn to my brother who looks amused as if there is some joke I am not apart of and don't have privilege to hear.

"She's been walking around at night and sometimes she'll pass by here and look for a few seconds...then move on." Luther answers.

"She is still on the bread thing...I mean honestly, hasn't she gotten the point by now, it was as much for me as it was for her." I say, flopping against the ground with a sullen expression grabbing at my cheeks.

"What saving her?"

"Yes, saving her. I think she got it by the end on the train, that I wasn't hell bent on returning her to district 12 because I thought it was my duty to society. I wanted her to be alive because it made me feel better. Now i'm not sure." I growl.

"Peet, you don't mean that in the slightest. You say your dreams are your worst fear...and who are they about." He asks softly. I want to punch him in the mouth but I just keep all the hate inside for another day, all the excuses that are no longer convincing to anyone but me.

"I don't know what curse she put on you but I had to watch my brother risk his life several times to save hers. I also watched my brother fall apart and if you think I didn't notice, I did. You may be a skilled liar but the light in your eyes hasn't been the same." He explains.

I knew that trying to replace my broken parts with things that didn't fit wouldn't hold for much longer, but I have to keep trudging on. If I can survive an arena filled with blood thirsty children, I am quite sure I can handle love sickness this strong.

"I'm going home, I think I need to go...make some bread or start on the cookie dough. Yeah, that's what I need to go do." I dust the dirt off my trousers and I think Luther wants to say something else but decides it's better to just ignore it.

I reach the house and haul in another sack of flour, letting it drop against the kitchen floor, a cloud of dust rising to the ceiling. I set the materials for the cookies across the counters, standing back to look at the normalcy in the room. I am in m kitchen with everything that is familiar, the knives, the rolling pins, several icing containers and dyes litter the cabinets. Something is missing. I always sit here and feel like I do not belong, that I need to find what would make me come to peace with everything. I wish dearly that I knew what it was that I required to feel whole.

The sunrise is alway beautiful. The orange mixes together in a subtle way with the blue sky, almost creating this dream landscape. I would only ride that hovercraft again to see it all up close, to have a chance to extend my hand into the clouds. I don't think I am in the slightest bit suicidal, but only having one moment in the day where I actually smile completely has to be unhealthy. It's eight when I hear my front door open and the sound of humming starts lightening up the house. Prim's little face peaks out from behind the door frame, her nose still pink from the cold outside.

"Where should I hang my coat?" She asks, unzipping it and shuddering without it's protection.

"The rack next to the front door and there is an apron hanging on the back of the chair for you when you come back." I instruct.

Prim smiles and gets back quickly, holding up the garment I have designated for her. She looks puzzled when she puts it over her head and it fits almost perfectly, just a bit bigger in size. I motion for her to stand at the table as I lay out all the decorating tools, her small bright eyes following me closely. I know I must look terrible from lack of sleep but I am hoping her adolescence will keep her inquires to a minimum.

"Why did you have an apron that fits me?" Is her first question and I literally breathe happiness. It is nothing I have to dodge or lie for. Just a plain simple truth.

"It's the one my dad gave to me when I was a little younger than you. I had it in the attic and figured you could use it." I say, laying some of the already baked cookies onto the table along.

"Oh. Am I going to learn the recipe for making cookies too?" She responds.

"Sure. We'll leave that last though. I thought you'd enjoy decorating a bit more. You can keep the apron if you want. I have no use for it." I tell her, wiping the excess flour on my apron. Her eyes get excited and she fiddles with the ties, trying to mimic the way I have tied mine.

"Can I keep it here when I help you bake?"

"Of course you may."

I show her a few flowers that will be easy for her to do without difficulty and stand back. It hits me that is some parallel universe, this could be my life if I had a child. Teaching them how to bake, feeling more useful than broken, and leaving the games behind in the dust in order to provide them with a better life. I have never allowed myself to think into the future lately and let a moment this small have me wishing I would be blessed with something like this, but I really want to have a family. The terror of them being cast into the arena cannot replace the joy you would feel to know you created a person and taught them the kindness that festered in your own heart.

"How do these look?" Prim asks, looking for my approval.

"Perfect." I say, unable to keep visions of a life I want badly from flashing through my brain.

"Peeta, do you still love Katniss?" she says offhandedly. Her question suffocates me and I cannot move. It seems everything ends like this with everyone. It's not just my thoughts that will not leave me alone, it is everyone who surrounds me too. It is one reason I stay angry. I have constant fuel to the flame.

"You don't have to tell me, but if you did, I wouldn't let her you know."

"Prim, she's your sister. I don't want you to have to keep any secrets from her. Plus, it's between us." I respond.

"Mom thinks you love her a lot and you only are curt with her because she hurt you. Don't tell her I said that, I overheard her talking to someone." Prim states.

"Let's make that cookie dough." I want to steer the conversation away from this. I feel the vomit coming up in my throat, the tears seem to be collecting at my eyes. Those nightmares are my pointers, my terrors, and they can even find me in the daylight.

"Okay." She smiles and I know the worst is over. Now I only have to breathe and keep going without compromising the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The light flickers against the wall. If I could pinpoint the exact moment I found this seat then I would know how long I had been staring at this pastel wall. Tomorrow I have cameras coming to film me and I have to do damage control on my entire personality. I practice my smile, curling up the sides of my mouth in some sort of mass effort to make myself look more approachable. Somehow I doubt I look convincing. Panem will probably think Katniss has rubbed off on me, that I had adopted her coarse attitude and awkward presence.

I can hear my back door open and I remember I never collected my spare key from my brother. He has a box in his hands and from the looks of it, he has brought my favorite pastry from the family bakery. He sets everything out on a plate and sits across from me, a pint of whiskey emerging from his jacket. Getting alcohol is expensive. Even though I have more than enough money to buy it, I never bothered because seeing Haymitch's everyday stupor is enough make anyone sober. The fact that my brother has some on hand worries me.

"How much did you pay for that?" I inquire. His head shakes and he slides the liquid over to me.

"Nothing. Your old buddy Haymitch gave it to me earlier. He said you need it...well he said you either need alcohol or an exorcism to turn things around." he responded.

"Yeah well. As soon as they all show up i'll be able to turn on the charm because I know the pressure is on." I say.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am sure no one told the rest of the world that Katniss and I hate each other and it's not like I can just call it quits on this teenage love thing. Basically everything will go back to arena normal standards. Lies, lies, and more lies."

"And you are okay with this?" Luther asks.

"I love her. Of course I am okay with it." I answer.

I have resolved that complaining is useless. I cannot change anything about these thoughts that stream in my head daily. Katniss still remains the only person I want, the only person I need to be alive. It's sort of like my heart beats because she is still breathing. It is the simple fact that when I wake up in the middle of the night trembling, I am always holding her dead in my arms. My body feels useless and hollow, just as cold as a lifeless body because she no longer remains.

"I couldn't understand at first, why you loved her so much. The more I watched you, the more I kind of figured it out. There is this look that you get whenever she is around. Like existing doesn't matter because the only thing that you need to hold you down is near. I mean, life is just a jumble of tangled messes, but when you look at her it seems like you found the only real purpose to keep going." Luther explains.

"I am glad at least one person gets it. I think the only thing that bothers me is that I cannot figure out why...I can handle everything so much more efficiently if I knew why my heart was wired this way. I guess it is better to not know. Things happen for a reason." I finally state.

"You still believe that, that everything happens for a reason? Why?"

"I was put into the arena because Katniss needed to know how I felt. I needed to know how I felt too. I also think I was placed in that arena to give people hope that some form of humanity still remains, that all of us victors don't always turn out to be absolutely crazy. My life just doesn't have too much purpose right now but I feel something coming. I am not sure if it is good or bad."

"Katniss needs you. That's why you are here. Peet, she just doesn't know how to be a real human. You sort of remind her how to feel." He tells me.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I figure that is why she is always looking at this house, always passing by the bakery when she thinks everyone is asleep. She misses you but just doesn't know what missing someone feels like unless is attached to death."

The first time Luther pointed it out that she had been haunting places I would normally be, I had chalked it up to a mere coincidence. There was a part of me that was curious though. I walked outside every night and I found her in the same places, bow in her hand and a fallen look upon her face. I forgave her after that. I was just as clueless as she was anyhow. Where were we supposed to go from the place we had ended? How stupid was I to demand some kind of conclusion to our relationship? Life had never proven to be simple, it was forged with these roads I needed to separate and analyze. I needed to figure out how to make her see that those feelings of emptiness or longing that she feels isn't because of her owing me something. I needed her to believe that the reason she searches for me in the dark is because in some way, it is necessary for us to be together.

"You said before, you feel like something is coming. What do you mean?" Luther says after we sit in silence for a while.

"I think...that maybe Katniss is a bit more inspiring than just a love sick teenager...I was always afraid that she would spark something we wouldn't be able to fix. Her kindness, I feel the need to back her up but there is a part of me that always wonders...About the capitol and what they truly think of the two of us." I allow myself to say.

"You think people would try something against the capitol because you two beat the games? Because you guys broke the rules?" Luther whispers.

"Maybe. You have to remember Luther, I am more paranoid than most though. I used to live in a place where I always had to wonder if I'd be breathing in the next few seconds."

"I don't know Peet. I feel you night not be too far off the mark. I need to get home. Have fun on the tour and come back. I know you may not believe any body in this family cares but I do." He turns around and leaves me to my own devices. I fall asleep, with a piece of danish still hanging out of my hands.

* * *

The victory tour has become my means for survival. It is odd how it seems like I am always in the clutches of death. Before the arena my biggest concern was fighting my brothers for a chance to run the bakery, now my love for a girl is the only thing that is holding us safe. My ability to lie, to put on a good show, is something I am now extremely conscious of. Every word is produced with the same evenness, every caress I direct toward Katniss is calculated for a maximum portrayal of affection. There are moments where I feel like I becoming insensitive but it's not too hard to act in love. It is extremely hard to always wonder, however, if I can save district twelve.

I sit on the edge Katniss's bed. My feet brush the floor below, my artificial leg creaking slightly. She comes out of the bathroom in my old t-shirt, one she found on my dresser when we stopped in my room before going out to put on our show. She said it smelled like me and made her feel safe. Immediately after those word left her lips she looked down at the floor and we both stood there, unable to decipher what it meant.

Obviously, we are being forced into being together forever. I wonder, however, if something is starting to break through with her. If in some twisted way she is beginning to realize that every moment we just relax truth begins to seep into the air. Her sputters of words might not just be meaningless sentences, but the most real secrets that she cannot come to terms with.

"What's wrong Peeta? Why aren't you laying down?" She asks as she walks toward the window to open it. She had learned my habits, the way I love the soft breeze creeping in during the night, what side of the bed I prefer, and how I curl my arm so she fits perfectly next to me. I unbutton my shirt and throw it in the corner, climbing under the sheets and holding them open for her to join me. Once she is settled I can tell she is no where near tired. The rhythms of her breath are too eager, too full of life.

"Do you hate that leg?" Katniss asks quietly.

"What do you mean do I hate it?" I respond.

"You touch it a lot. When your thinking or just daydreaming. You eyebrows kind of furrow once you realize it is there." Katniss explains.

"No, I don't hate it. Lately I just cannot stand having anything the Capitol has manufactured around me. Like tomorrow when we are there, my face will be balled up in a twisted frown. It'll be your turn to console me, to make me smile." I tease.

"I'm terrible at making anyone happy. Just watch Haymitch run into a few walls, that should get the giggle juices flowing."

"Haymitch hasn't been drinking much lately and you don't really have to do anything much to make me happy. When I see you, I can't stop grinning. It's kind of sad really." I muse,

She gets quiet. It's always this way. I've decided being truthful is the best policy. She should know at every moment how I feel. Right now all I want to do is kiss her. I want to interlock her fingers in mine and know that we are not on some train. I want to believe we are at a house, our house, and that when the sun comes up I only have to look forward to seeing her face smiling. It only takes a glance at the window for me to come back to reality, that trees don't zoom by in a stationary home.

Once she is asleep I try to head into a dreamless night myself. It doesn't take long for her to start thrashing and she is sitting straight up, crying. I do not know if she is actually awake fully. There have been times where she has slept walked, talked, and sobbed. I always ask her if she remembers but most of the time if the nightmare is mild enough, she doesn't realize much has happened by morning. She only remembers 2 of about 5 times she wakes up. Those are the times she dreams about losing Rue or Prim. I, however, remember every single time she sheds a tear.

"Come here." I say, pulling her onto my lap.

"I can't Peeta..." she keeps crying. I wipe the tears with our blankets and finally I only hear a few hiccups in the dark. Her head is on my shoulder and I try to recline back she we can both go back to sleep.

"No...don't. I need something." I hear her say.

"You want water? I'll go get it." I offer.

"Kiss me." she croaks.

"What." I state. I try to feel her head, maybe she is coming down with something, I figure, but she keeps looking down and clutches my hands.

"Please." she mumbles.

I lift her chin and our lips meet. There is this moment where I know I am dreaming or she is possibly not aware of what she is even asking, but I kiss her anyway. Her fingers release mine and travel to my back. I shiver at the touch but my hands begin to wander as well and I pull her so close that the only barrier between our skin is my old t-shirt draped on her body. Finally I pull away lay back down, letting her nestle right next to me. It is too much. I want her so bad in every way possible but I also want her to feel the same way while awake in the daylight. Possibly, one day, she'll admit it. For now though, I have to be patient.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

I feel her legs twitch as the sunlight kisses our intertwined bodies. We are closer than normal, wrapped up in a bunch of confused limbs, clutching at each other for support. I hear her yawn as her hands move to pull down the shirt that had gathered above her waist. I don't move. She finally resettles herself and then lifts her head to see if my eyes are open. Everything in her face tells me she doesn't remember a thing. Her comfort level, the half smile playing in her eyes like embers burning in a fire. The same Katniss, one that isn't begging for my affection.

"We better get to breakfast." She says, sitting up and tugging on my arm. I swing my legs out so they both hit the floor, one thud a little more dense than the other. Her hand rests on my shoulder before she goes to tug the door open but I stop her short of leaving.

"You are literally wearing a shirt. Don't you think you should put on a pair of pants?" I say, as if somehow I am defending her honor.

"Why? It's what I fell asleep in and I am starving. No one cares what I wear." She whines.

"Well, one of us has to be clothed then." I retort and pick up my old shirt from last night. I re-button it slowly as we cross the cars to the dinning area, trying to smooth down my hair once we are seated. Effie is decked out of course. Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever seen her without the thousand pounds of hair spray or a colored wig. It makes me wonder what she really looks like, or at least what she may have been like when she was just a girl. I hear her gasp when she sees Katniss bear legged with one braid hanging over her shoulder. Effie has never approved of our sleeping arrangement. She said it was her duty to be a parental figure head while we took this trip. Obviously she thought this made her look bad, but it was detrimental to even her survival to keep this show up.

"I cannot let you two do this any longer. Tonight you have to sleep separately." Effie announces, smoothing her napkin on her lap.

"What for?" Katniss says with eggs dribbling from her mouth.

"Well, for starters, you both look like...well the least you could have done is combed your hair Peeta." She snaps.

My palm travels back over my mess of blonde hair, notting the few strands that are standing up in corners around my head. I laugh because I know what Effie is assuming, that our night was more than just screams and tears from nightmares. The fact that anyone thinks Katniss would let loose like that astounds me.

"Eh, pipe down powderpuff princess. So they had a little fun, I think you need to find someone to have fun with." I hear Haymitch mutter as he takes his seat. He fills his cup with coffee instead of whipping out his flask. I try to fight back the bouts of laughter but some noises escape.

"They are teenagers." Effie scolds him.

"They almost died in an arena together. I am pretty sure that classifies them as adults, sweetheart."

"Haymitch, the fact that you would allow them to do such a thing." Effie scowls.

I looked around to see Katniss's face. She had piled so much food in her mouth that she was practically choking so she didn't have to say anything...or so that her cheeks would look red from something besides embarrassment. I could see that she was about to hurl her fork at someones head which inspires me to laugh harder.

"Alright, calm down. Nothing happened in that room Effie. We wouldn't disrespect you like that." I say and flash a smile.

"Well lets move on then. Here is your schedules. Please try to adhere strictly to them. Oh and Haymitch here is yours...for the third time this morning." Effie grumbles.

We get through most of the day with everyone fawning over us. I kiss Katniss so many times that the magic it once held fizzles out. What is amazing is our banter. The way she has been smiling at me when we are in rooms by ourselves, waiting for the next event to start. Her heart is warm today, her beauty more potent than normal. She is sitting on a box, smoothing a stray wrinkle on her dress. I walk over to her and she allows a space for me to sit, her head tilting toward me.

"Let's talk about something normal." She says.

"Okay. Normal...I'm afraid I don't know what that is." I respond.

"Me either. I know Prim frequents your house by the way. If she is bothering you, don't be so polite. Let me know." Katniss goes on.

"I enjoy teaching her how to bake Katniss. It's fine, really. Do you think there is ever going to be a time where we won't be trying to save each others lives? Not that I mind. It's kind of been my life goal thus far." I say.

"Peeta. Please, I hate that you do that."

"Do what?"

"You know...You are so good to me. It makes me feel guilty. Isn't there someone you want to be alive for?" She asks.

"You have to understand my brothers and I have a relationship thats a bit difficult. Luther has recently emerged from that weirdness and we get on well and I have Sam but, I don't know. I just kind of...feel some type of way about you Katniss. I know you don't want to hear it, but I cannot separate myself from you as much as I try to. Trust me, I've argued with myself millions of times to let you go. It's not going very well." I explain.

"It's hard to be friends when I know this."

"I don't expect you to love me back. I have learned it is unfair to punish you for things that you don't naturally feel. Don't feel obligated toward me. I am happy to have you as a friend. You know me very well." I state.

"You're right about that. I've learned things like when you can't quite get the color paint you want while mixing it, your toes tap with fury against the floor."

"And I've learned that when you are annoyed with me being cheerful, you pull out the browns, greys, and blacks and hide all of my other colors just to see me squirm. That is not funny by the way." I chuckle.

"Well, someone has to be the rain cloud."

"Yeah. Leave that to Haymitch. He's perfect at that task."

Effie opens the door and our alone time is over. We are back on the streets, being thrust into a carriage for a parade none of us wanted. I see Katniss's demeanor change, her brow furrow. I know she is thinking of something, a plan that could prove to make everything we are trying to achieve so much easier. Short of running away, I couldn't imagine one thing that would stand above everything else. Unless we were to get married and have forty children just for president snow's sake.

I don't know if I could suggest something like that to her. A wedding, one in which she would be forced into having a life a wounded victor, instead of a home with her favorite hunter. If we had to get married, I am sure I would always have that little voice in the back of my mind, every time she saw Gale, that she would rather be in his home, in his bed, than with me. How do you live that way? I think I would rather move in with Haymitch. At least he'd be some sort of entertainment to sooth the heart break I would no doubt face daily. I don't think she would ever come up with that as a solution. She thinks she was born to be alone.

We get back into our loft, one I haven't seen since the last games. I set my coat against the back of the chair as Cinna and Portia head straight for the table. Haymitch puts his hand on my shoulder before I can get there. I know something is coming by the way Katniss is digging her heels into the floor, She hasn't looked at me since we got off of our parade float, electing to stay so close to Cinna that he asked if we had gotten into some kind of argument. Haymitch leans close to my ear and whispers.

"Be patient and keep your temper at bay boy."

"So Peeta...I was thinking about something you said earlier. That we will never be able to relax, that we are always trying to keep our mortality. If we did something...really rash...I think we might be able to convince him to leave us alone." Katniss starts, still looking at her toes.

"What...are you proposing we do because honestly, I don't know what more will make him believe we are in love. I practically have my tongue down your throat all day. I can't be any more explicit on how I feel." I reply.

"That it...I know he thinks you are in love but me, he knows how much I have lied before. So if we do something he thinks I would never agree to then obviously this will go better." She says.

"Are you suggesting..." I stop. I can't even imagine that what I was thinking would never work is about to be proposed as a solution to this problem. My stomach turns. I don't want this at all and for the first time in my life, I consider saying no to her. I can't just be this puppet who is used. My feels are often just stomped on but this time I think it may be going too far. Then I think of Prim, Sam, and Luther, then swallow all dignity I have left as a human.

"I think we should get married." Katniss says. It hurts like a bullet, worse than Cato's blow to my leg. I just nod a simple yes and ask to be excused.

The funny thing is, once I get to my room I know exactly what I'm headed to look for. I rummage around in my duffle bag for something I never thought I would have the chance to use, something I am not sure I want to give away. The black box in my hand weighs more than I was bargaining for, the velvet cutting through my skin and leaving scars. Once I pop open the lid I just stare at the ring glittering there, taunting me. The day I got it I wanted to throw it into the river. I contemplated melting it in a fire, but I kept it close because I couldn't let my fears eat up me and what this object meant to my father was more important than my rage.

* * *

"Peeta." My father said. I collected the remains of my sketches for the new cookies and met him in the living room. He had a glass of juice balanced in his hand, the house so silent that you would have deemed him a widower if you didn't know better. He pointed to the seat across from him and I sat down, watching the shadows dance across his dimly lit face.

"I have something for you. Something you can't tell your brothers about." He explained.

"Sure, what is it? If it's something they could use though, I'd rather they have it. I am fine with everything I get from the games." I say.

"No Peeta. It is meant for you." He slides a box across the wood table and sits back. The ring inside is a yellow diamond, oval and set firmly in place by a silver band. I throw up in my mouth because he is under this belief that I actually have someone to give this too. That hope died long ago.

"Keep it." I say, setting it back on the table.

"No. She loves you. You may not see it now but in time, you'll start noticing things. Then it is just waiting for her to notice them too. Take it son. It was your grandmothers. She told me to give it to whomever I loved deeply but I never got that chance. I want it to go to someone who has a shot at true love." He gets up and claps my shoulder, leaving me with ghosts and wishes.

* * *

Here it is again and I am going to give it away. It just hurts too much for words to even explain right. I hear a knock on my door and I don't have a chance to ask for whoever it is to go away. Portia is holding a glass of champagne that she quickly gives over to me. My stylist is one person whom I've had the privilege of telling everything to. Unlike Haymitch, she never tells me to suck it up. She lets me have wounds that we both know that won't heal because she has a story similar to my own.

"Is that what you are going to give to her?" Portia asks.

"I guess. I wanted to save for when she actually meant she wanted to be with me but I can't." I mumble.

"Peeta, she's stuck and I know she doesn't understand what love is. I've told you this, Haymitch has explained it. She is too damaged. The best you can do is try to repair her." Portia instructs.

"But who is going to repair me? This is taking a toll. I just...I feel like the drive I had before isn't the same. I'm on edge because this time I don't have only one life on my hands, I have families, children, and parents. I also am now going to have to have a life with someone who'd rather gouge her eyes out that live with me."

"That's not true. She loves being in your presence because you have this way about you. You improve everyone's mood." Portia says smiling.

"Oh right. I am a ball of sunshine. How did you do it?"

"Mhmm?"

"Love someone who you knew would never...accept it." I ask.

"Peeta. You learn to find the good in the situation. Me, I knew he thought everything would be fine if we stayed close because what I felt was inconsequential to him, but I started to just think of things that were okay regarding my situation. He still made me laugh, held me when I was scared, kissed my forehead in the morning. Those little things can go a long way in making life not so heavy. Give her the ring and when you do just say everything you are feeling. She may not remember it but for you it will be like revealing a secret. Then you can live in peace knowing that you've always showed all of your cards, hiding nothing. When she finally comes around you can let her know how much you have been destroyed and how much she should have listened before, but most importantly, you won't be bleeding on the inside and the ache will be duller."

Portia leaves and I curl up on my bed, knowing the nightmares will be worse, especially since one person will be wearing white.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

**-So with chapter I am going to fast forward quite a bit. Thank you for all of you kind words, they mean a lot. Enjoy!**

"Where is the ring?" Portia asks, making a last minute stitch into my new suit. I shake out my good leg, getting the last minute nervousness from my system. In an hour I am going to be an engage man. It may not be real to Katniss, but for me, I feel like I am going to vomit.

"I got a different one. I just can't give her that one. Not yet at least." I mumble.

"I understand, I just want to make sure you tuck it away in a safe place. I purposely picked the blazer that had a pocket inside the lining. Let me see what you have selected." Portia says with a little giggle. I made Cinna go because I couldn't stand in front of a case of jewelry. I couldn't have the Captiol's press catching me shopping for an engagement ring because I may have looked more frightened than actually ecstatic.I haven't eaten, or slept. My face is ragged and my hands won't stop shaking. It's worse then after the timer had counted down to zero and the games began in the arena. Much worse.

I take the little ring out of it's hiding place. The rose gold is wrapped like a vine in a circle. I see flecks of what appears to diamonds, lavish but tasteful. I hand it over to Portia who smiles and nods her head in approval.

"Cinna did a fantastic job, but I have something for you as well." She walks away and pulls out a box, a gold bracelet resting on the red velvet lining.

"It was my fathers but I want you to have it Peeta. It is astonishing, really, to meet someone like you. Someone who gives up everything because they have chosen to follow their heart. You are one of a kind." Portia fastens the bracelet around my wrist and kisses my cheek.

I smile at her and put everything in its proper place. It's only seconds before I am joined with Katniss who seems unsure of herself. Haymitch must have told her I was upset, but I don't have anything left in me to try and sooth her ache. I just walk forward and into Caesar Flickman's care. The questions are endless. I am made to be a hero when it is only selfishness that has gotten me here. Sure, now, I care about more than Katniss. Her mother has become a source of wisdom, Prim the sister I never had. I even care about Gale in some twisted way. Without him alive, I am not sure what state Katniss would be in. I owe him a little something, I guess.

"Peeta, tell me, how is things are looking for the two of you? You guys have looked absolutely mad over each other." Caesar says, flashing a very toothy smile.

"Well, I have another confession." I respond, looking over the audience.

"What's that? Surely we all know how this love story will end. Am I right?" Caesar says and the audience starts shouting our names. I swallow once and get down on my one good leg, looking up at the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on.

"I know until the games, you barely knew I was alive. Then I came here with you where the only thought I had was sending you home. I know it seems crazy, that I loved you enough to risk my own life for you and I can't say that I'm not insane for doing so, but I just knew what my heart kept telling me was the right thing to do. I know at times it's hard for you to understand how I can be this way and things between us are not always perfect, but I dream about waking up beside you. On the days you smile, I note each dimple in your cheek. When our skin touches I think I may be on fire because emotions are building and exploding. Your family has become my family and all I can ask you is to help me make this permanent. I know there is no one out there for me besides you. Marry me. Please." I take out the box and open it, the ring just between us. She says yes quickly because this is all a fabrication but I just pretend, for a moment, that this is real. There is no Capitol, no audience. I am just a guy who loves a girl and has gotten that love in return.

* * *

It has been eventful. Being home isn't like I thought it was going to be. I had this idea, that I would be alone at home. Katniss and I would have these moments where we'd try to look like a normal couple, perhaps stroll the town, but besides that my future wife would stay away until we were officially married. Gale. He had to be caught with a bag of game, had to make her realize that she loves him and then I had to take care of him. To know that he could so easily make her see that love is worth something but only with him is so frustrating, so evil.

Then she goes and gets banged up as soon as Gale disappears. I can't be mad though. Our days are filled with just spending time together. We don't talk much. I draw what ever she needs, paint until the sun goes down. I expect, if we were normal, that this is what our married life would consist of. I set down my pencil and rest on the back of my hands, waiting for some sort of inspiration to come to me. I hear her laugh and I turn to see her hand covering her face. My eyebrows shoot up with questions until she finally stops giggling. Its a sound I am not accustomed to and it sounds absolutely amazing.

"You grunted. I don't know why I find that hilarious..." Katniss explains.

"Grunted. I think you are hearing things." I play back.

"No, you sat down your pencil, scrunched your face and grunted. I like when your face looks ugly." She says.

"So you want to marry someone who looks ugly. Good to know. I'll just make to climb a tree, only to have my face break the fall that is enviable with me only having one good leg."

"Well, maybe so many girls wouldn't be mad at me for keeping you away if you were ugly"

"Oh yeah, because there is a line from here to the Capitol." I grumble.

"You don't know do you? You are an astounding person." Katniss says shyly.

"Who grunts and looks ugly on occasion. I'm dashing." I state flatly.

"I barely brush my hair. We are quite the match. Did I mention that you were annoying yesterday? That braid you tried to create in my hair. Dreadful."

"Oh okay Queen Katniss. Come here, I'll be sure to do a better job."

Before I can stop myself I am on my feet and whipping her onto the bed. She is laughing and I put my fingers through her hair as she tells me to put her down. I lean in to kiss her and their is no refusal. Our lips mesh as my hands still linger between the strands of brunette. When I stop she blushes and we spend the rest of our time in silence, but I can't help but have a stupid grin on my face.

I walk to Haymitch's house before reaching my own. He hates the dark and his liquor has run a little low so I feel like it is my duty to take care of him. When I open the door he is sitting at the table with a cup, just staring out of the window. I hand him the brown bag and his face lights up as he pours a bit of the liquid to drown his sorrows. I take a seat across from him.

"The camera crews. They'll be here soon but I am think you and Katniss don't need much touching up. Her mother tells me you two have been getting on extremely well." Haymitch reports.

"Yeah we've been doing that book together and I feed you all. My life has been amazing thus far." I say, rolling my eyes.

"Would you rather she pushed you away boy? Pick what you want." Haymitch grumbles.

"I didn't say I was angry. I am just playing with you old man. I came here because I was thinking about...How Snow is going to do something soon." I whisper.

"We can't talk about this here." Haymitch snaps.

"Where then? You know as well as I do that something is coming."

"Outside now." He mouths.

We take a path, an old one that stretched beyond our houses. It leads close to the fence, a place I like to go to imagine why on earth Gale and Katniss keep throwing themselves over it when they know the repercussions are grave. We get the closest to the edge we can muster and Haymitch turns so that he is looking directly at me. His eyes are bloodshot, deep purple bruises lining each socket. I can't stand to see him this way, the pain so plain to see and yet masked by his harshness. Katniss has somehow gotten this man to care about her, but of course he would. She is a replica of himself.

"What are your thoughts?" Haymitch asks me before I can even drill him.

"Well, If he kills her outright, the Capitol will be in hysterics, not to mention more revolts will happen in the districts. In order to get rid of us and this uprising, our deaths would have to be an accident." I start.

"Yes, I have concluded the same. Think harder boy, what are his possibilities." Haymitch prompts.

"He could bomb district 12, make it out to be another district 13 all over again, but he can't take the chance that we'd somehow make it out. I though once we were married he'd force us to move to the Captiol where we'd become his puppets, but he hates her too much for that. I am just trying to anticipate what is going to happen so our next move isn't just hasty and empty. You have to have thought of something he would do. You've seen the Capitol's lies for years. You know it better than I do." I respond, kicking a stray rock.

" I have a hunch but trust me Peeta, it's not going to do you any good if I tell you. Enjoy this place while you can. Enjoy the non moody Katniss before she's off frolicking with her cousin." Haymitch walks away and I am left, going through the scenarios alone in my head.

* * *

Sitting in front of my television, I pick at the seams on my chair. Sam and Luther are with me, though why I am not entirely sure. They just heard about the mandatory programing but instead of finding somewhere else to watch, they thought it would be best to camp out in my living room. I see Katniss's photographs in her wedding dresses and my friend and brother whistle, making me blush. They asked why I'm not watching this with her, but what more is there to say than that we literally see each other every day for hours on end and sometimes we need that break. Once the photos are done, President Snow makes his appearance. From his face I know this cannot be good for me. Then his words deliver the blow. Victors will be reaped. Katniss will be back in the game and I will make sure I am right there with her.

"Peet...It's going to be fine. She'll go in and with any luck so will Haymitch. You can bring her home. She is strong." I hear Luther say.

I have closed my eyes and try to block everything out. Sam is making some sort of noise, my bother is trying to convince me this is nothing more than a day at the office, a quick and painful needle. I knew it was coming, but to have to go back into the games...to feel like nothing is ever guaranteed and that death is literally always knocking was crazy the first time. It's absolutely mad and now, for the second time, I deciding to face my death. I want this uprising to continue after Katniss comes home. I want her to kill Snow. I want this to end.

"Give me the phone." I mutter.

"Peeta, we need to talk." Sam says.

"PHONE!" I roar.

Luther hands me what I have requested and they both sit and look at with heartbreak in their eyes. They know the decision I've made and they hate me for it. They trusted me to live this time, they trusted to have me around. I dial a number and wait for an answer. I hear a voice, choked u,p but still with its familiar ring.

"Effie, I need those tapes. Of every living victor and their games." I hear myself say though I am not sure how I am managing to speak.

"I will get them to you as quickly as I can Peeta." Effie responds with a noticeable hiccup.

"It'll be fine Effie. Don't worry about me. Just get the tapes and I'll see you soon. Goodnight." I tell her.

"Peeta. I'm so sorry." she says and I hear the phone shut off.

"Okay, now you two. I am going to go back into those games and I don't plan on living. I know, last time I went I never gave you warning but this time I am. Just don't fight with me. It's hard enough to know I can't guarantee she'll come home and we both may be dead and I don't want to argue with you guys about why I should still be striving to save my own life. Just, there is something I am going to make you promise. Take care of her mother and sister. Don't give me shit and I don't care if it's dangerous. You'll do it." I inform them.

"Peeta, really. Your just going to off yourself." Sam snaps.

"Promise." I say flatly.

"We promise. Let's go Sam. He needs time alone." Luther pushes Sam out of my house. I know there is one more thing I must do. Haymitch will be expecting it so I just take a few cheese buns with me and wine so diffuse the tension. Haymitch has his door propped open so I just slide in. I place what I have brought on the table and he just looks up, a smirk lurking on his lips.

"Come to ask me to die." Haymitch says simply.

"No, I am here to tell you that I am going back into the games. End of story. I don't care what crap story she feeds you. I don't care if she promises you an ocean full of liquor. You will not entertain her ideas. You owe me because you chose her over me. I need to protect her." I state.

"So, instead of having me go in and you two have a chance at happily ever after, you want to die." Haymitch questions.

"I don't know enough about the Capitol to be a mentor Haymitch and she would never forgive me for letting you die. In the arena, I can make friends and you know this. I am fresh out of the games so I'm not as rusty as the other victors and I know they are your friends. I can't let you be in there, i'd be torture. I want nothing more than to keep her safe and send her home. The two of you...can make the necessary events happen after this is over. You can get rid of the monster. You know it, I know it. It's time Snow had his death day." I whisper.

"Go home, Peeta." Haymitch says, shaking his head.

"PROMISE. PLEASE." I beg.

"Why do you do this boy?"

"I love her."

"Okay. I'll do it." He mutters and I leave satisfied.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

**Going to try something a little different. Hopefully it works out well :)**

I breathe into the pillow. The scent of chocolate is still baked into my skin, making my stomach grumble in protest to me sleeping in. The nightmares, reliving the quarter quell again, makes me so exhausted. I yawn, stretching my arms as far as I can without moving Katniss who is snoozing with her lips puckered irresistibly. It took so long to get here; sometimes it takes me a few moments to even believe it is the true story of my life. I have survived through two games and a rebellion without losing myself completely and I still have her. I twist the ring around her finger, smiling at the way her nose crinkles at the sensation. One eyelid opens and her mouth forms a hard line at my intrusion on her peace.

"Peeta." She grumbles.

"It's almost 1. You want me to make breakfast?" I ask, brushing a few stray hairs from her face.

"Will that get you to leave me alone?" She retorts.

"No."

"Ugh, fine. Do what you want." She says as she turns over, her back becoming my new visual. I've had this sick euphoria that she has wanted to beat out of me this week. I smile almost all day. When I do laundry, cook, or even remove a splinter, I grin at her. It should be the opposite, however, because the anniversary of our arena days is upon us. It's always the worst when the day rolls around. The nightmares get heavy, I start to have more fits, she cries. Somehow, this year, I am dodging a bullet. I haven't been hit by the mess that usually marks our lives. I actually feel somewhat human.

I see her body turn and she is facing me again. I move until we are touching and kiss her, my hands wrapping around her hips. It's slow at first, just a morning reminder of the love that has grown, but when it becomes fast paced, my fingers fumble at the hem of her shirt and she laughs something so innocent that I try not to smile too much more then I already am.

"Peeta, no...I think we should take a break." She says between kissing me.

"I don't think that is necessary, I feel great." I protest.

"Four times last night, that's why I'm so tired and why we haven't gotten out of bed yet. Slow down, I'll still be around." She replies.

"To think Finnick use to tease you about being pure. I bet, where ever he is in his after life, he is probably grinning at you Mrs. Mellark."

"Shut up and go make me food." She says, pushing me out of bed.

"Hey, watch. I have a metal leg."

"Bye Peeta."

I pull on my boxers and head straight for the door, ignoring her growls as she tries her best to fall back to sleep. It takes me a while to amble down the stairs, but when I get there the most unusual sight is seated at my table. A sober Haymitch.

"What do I owe this pleasure?" I say, turning the coffee pot on.

"I live right next to you love birds. Can't a man see his favorite victors?" He mutters.

"Without being a little intoxicated, no." I say.

"I have some news for you, only if your bride is asleep. Don't fancy her throwing a knife at me without at least four bottles of wine in the system."

"She's not coming down."

"Her mother called me. Now, I don't imagine why she thought it would be a good idea to share this with me but apparently she believes I can guide you on this matter better, because she said, and I quote, 'Katniss and I are cut from the same cloth.'" Haymitch starts.

"The quicker you tell me what's going on, the quicker you can have a glass of brandy." I persuade.

"She's pregnant. You went and knocked up your wife." Haymitch says flatly.

I trip over my own feet, my hands resting firmly against the granite of the countertop. I never would have thought twice about that being a possibility. I knew she was on medications and I always assumed that was in her regimen. It would make sense why it didn't happen in the first year of our marriage or when we first made love. She had run out of something and we wrongly assumed what that the pill was for...

How can you explain your feelings when you find out you're having a child? People always have told me you having this overwhelming joy, the feeling that a new life is being forged out for you, one where you can nurture the way you wish it had been presented to you. I never hear about the worry, though. It's numbing that between the two of us, we could bring life into the world, when our lives had been dirtied with more than our fair share of bloodshed. Katniss may not be capable to handle this. It frightens me.

"Connect the dots yet?" Haymitch states.

"She's is going to panic." I mumble.

"Good boy. Now, she already knows it but Katniss takes a while to admit anything to herself. She may not decide she's really going to have a kid until it's on your living room floor."

"So your plan is for me to confront her? Or are you going to be charming and do it?" I shoot back.

"I'll talk to her. You're too soft. I just thought you should be aware. Have fun playing house."

"You know...this effects you too. I think i'll make my child call you granddad." I say when he gets to the doorway.

"sleep with one eye open then." He snorts, and walks out of the house.

I rest on my arms. A father. I can't say it hadn't crossed my mine, the yearn to make something truly special between us. I loved her so much that it seemed like a waste not to spread the affection onto someone we could call ours. The way she was so steadfast when it came to Rue, to Prim, was a direct application of her excellence as a mother. I only hoped to be half as great as she already had been.

I threw eggs into a pan and toast into the oven before I heard the creak of the floor boards. Katniss had already bathed and clothed herself, her hair not held back but hanging loosely at her shoulders. She flopped into her chair and picked up the morning paper, roughly scattering the pages for a bit of news she'd care about. Her eyes stopped dead and she folded the paper to get a better read.

"You saw Gale then?" I said, dishing the food onto plates.

"Unfortunately." She muttered.

"Mhm. Annie called yesterday while you were out. I forgot to mention it. She's doing great. Her son talked off my ear. Great kid. I invited her to come by sometime. With the anniversary I figured...it's best when we are all together." I say, sitting down at the table with her.

"It doesn't change much. We'll all still have the same nightmares."

"I don't know. Sometimes I have memories. It's like...since the capitol tortured me the nightmares are my fits, but my dreams are the reality of what really happened. I've tried to explain it before but I don't think I can quite accurately describe it to you."

Pain lights her eyes. Anytime I mention being torture, her hand twitches and she automatically looks down to the floor like it was somehow her fault. I don't know how to get her past blaming herself for things out of her control. I pushed for her to be saved. If anything it was all my making.

"The reality is a nightmare too Peeta. It's all the same." She whispers.

"I know. I just like the memories more. You don't look like a serial killer in them, you're my Katniss in the real stuff."

We eat the rest of our meal in a silence that is more natural then out of place. I look at her and see the glow my father used to tell me about when a woman stepped into the shop with a round belly. It looks sort of strange on Katniss because her exterior is so rough, not is physicality but personality. She tries so hard to deny happiness on a daily basis. It has become my job to pull it out of her. We've establish ourselves in the living room once I am decent. I see her still playing with the ring I gave her, never quite happy about it's presence on her finger. I guess it snuffs out her independence...but she isn't independent anymore, she never really was.

"Real or not real, you pushed me into a potted plant." I say off handedly.

"Real. Why did you ask that?"

"I dreamt it last night."

"It meant nothing. I was confused about what your intentions were."

"Were they not always the same?" I ask.

"They were. I just didn't want them to be. I didn't want you to love me. I'm glad you did anyway."

"Real or not real, You hated on the victory tour when I kissed your neck."

"Real...sort of." she responds.

"sort of?"

"I liked it. I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea so when I caught you, I scowled."

"Ha. I still do it now, it's a habit."

"I like your habits, like when you mumble about how to make a vanilla frosting in your sleep. It makes me laugh."

I curl up with her on the couch and let sleep find us both. It's not long until I am thrust into another distant memory...about how a quarter quell could being very curious...and dangerous...

* * *

Watching the tribute videos, taking more notes, then finally getting to the capital has taken on a whole other life. I have been so diligent and yet there are gaps, things Haymitch and I haven't conversed on. Katniss wants to be alone and I don't blame her. Seeing Darius was enough to make anyone sick. I turn to go into my bedroom but Haymitch has already materialized in the dining room. We both stand there, unsure of what to say to one another. Hoping that there is something left to salvage.

"Nice one, teasing her in the elevator." Haymitch pokes.

"You know you were dying to say it. Everyone thinks she is the ultimate virgin." I respond, trying to keep the conversation light.

"She is, unless she's a good actor and you've been doing more than scribbling in that notebook."

"Katniss couldn't lie. She is...well. Anyway, they shouldn't have gone after her like that. It's not her fault." I say, suppressing a laugh.

"Mhmm. They are showing that they like her."

"I know."

"It's important that you make the necessary connections. She won't understand the social game."

"Already on it. I'll get around tomorrow. Any other things I should be warned about?"

"I'm cooking up something. You'll know by talking to the others. Pay attention to their overall attitudes. I've gotten a few on board." He whispers.

"Allies for the games." I say loudly.

"Yup, you'll need them. Go to bed." he barks at me.

That's all I need. Haymitch is going through the motions of what I had hoped for. He is setting up the rebellion and I need to help push it along.


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

**Thanks for following the story! **

I wake up with a knot in my throat. You would have to be entirely blind to not see how much President Snow hates us, but so far I had buried the worry so deep, I couldn't find it. Last night it had all come to the shore, each minute representing how many obstacles saving her life would come with. They were going to kill both of us at the right time, no matter what I did to stop it.

I put on my training clothes, thinking of what I have to say to Chaff to get him a bit more comfortable with me. I can be sure what ever Haymitch has started will be heavily doused with Chaff's presence. My door slams open and Haymitch pulls me from my seated position into the closet. He quitely shuts the door, takes a swig of his drink, and waits for a few seconds before saying anything.

"There are no microphones in here?" I whisper.

"I checked my own, nothing." Haymitch mutters.

"Then what is it? Katniss will be looking for both of us soon."

"I can't tell you the details, you know that right?"

"Yeah," I say.

"You have to be very intelligent this time, Peeta. I don't doubt you ability to win people over but it's not even about that. Katniss will be the problem. Don't piss her off, let her think she is running the show. I can't keep both of you alive if she storms off after the two of you have some kind of riff."

"I can't control her temper, but you know I wouldn't let her go wandering off in the arena."

"Right, but I don't want give her any reason to sneak off. Next, you'll know who to trust once you are in there. I have arranged a way for you to identify them. I don't think I have to tell you who to spend time with today. Gather information, tips, strategies. None of us know what the hell they are going to drop you in on but if you discuss worst case scenarios...that's better than nothing. Finally...If I were to be able to get you out...Let's be honest. The Capitol's men will be right on my hyde. I may only be able to rescue one of you. Make your choice." He says. I know he's only giving me the option because I will pick her. He would never let her die, and he owes me.

"Katniss, Haymitch. If you don't save her life...If I lose her, I don't know if I will be any good for what comes after this. She can live without me. Haymitch, I have no idea what you are doing but be careful. Snow knows that killing you will off us with in a second."

"I have nothing to live for, but that self righteous ass will not kill you two or all of district 12 without me putting a knife in his back first. Let's go."

We spill out and walk into the dinning room. I feel like, between me and Haymitch, we have been keeping nothing but secrets from everyone else. It's an understanding that we have, that while Katniss is able to survive, we must be the ones who plot and let her lose on situations she is not prepared for. Her best work is done off guard. Haymitch is planning to get into the arena but I had no idea what resources he had to pull that off. He had to be anticipating this since Katniss pulled the berries. Her face looks quite blank when she first walks into eye sight but as soon as she catches the sight of the two of us, her face frowns, looking harsh.

"You're late." Haymitch scolds.

"Sorry. I slept in after the mutilated-tongue nightmares kept me up half the night." She says, wavering. I wish she would have let me try to help her last night but of course, some things are best dealt with alone.

"All right, never mind. Today, in training, you've got two jobs. One, stay in love."

"Obviously." Katniss states flatly.

"And two, make some friends." Haymitch says.

"No, I don't trust any of them, I can't stand most of them, and I'd rather operate with just the two of us." Katniss protests. Here is what Haymitch is talking about. My job isn't to look like I am on anyone's side but her own. I have to make sure that she feels my allegiance and that I will make decisions with her.

"That's what I said first but.." I start, reaching out for her hand but Haymitch cuts me off.

"But it won't be enough. You're going to need more allies this time around."

"Why." She keeps pressing.

Haymitch has to practically spell it out for her. How can we combat a room full of tributes and arena designed to target us without help? Haymitch already has the people he needs' trust and he doesn't need her to make friends. He just wants her to have some kind of project to work towards so she doesn't get bored and snoop around. We ride down to the training center, hand in hand. While Atala explains everything, I decide one of us has to be a better actor than standing silently next to each other. I let her fingers go, placing my hand at the small of her back. There is a moment when she turns to me and give her a light kiss, as if I were trying to soothe her. The other tributes notice and look at the floor.

"We should split up." She says when Atala lets us go.

"Yup, have a good day." I respond and walk away. I approach Chaff first and shake his hand, moving on to Brutus to show respect. I study the way they interact together and right off I see how the body language differs. I puts me off place a bit. After A few seconds of throwing Chaff laughs as he looks over his shoulder, seeing Katniss with a woman who looks a little strange.

"You're girl is with Wireless." Chaff says.

"I've noticed." I say offhandedly.

"I'm surprise you aren't over there with her. Every day I see you two with your hands all over each other. Have a fight?" Brutus picks.

"No, she likes to have her freedom. I don't need to be with her every second of the day."

"I feel like you two are up to something. You didn't win those games by being two love drunk teens." Brutus says with his eyebrow up.

"Maybe." I sink a spear into the dummy ahead of me and Brutus looks pleased, thinking that somehow he might work himself into my circle. I decide to stop paying attention to Brutus who has slightly wandered off, leaving me and Haymitch's best friend to our own devices. I don't know where to start with him. If I assume he's in alliance with me without his prompting, he may get slightly anxious. Luckily, like Haymitch, he likes control of a situation.

"Why would you volunteer?" Chaff says.

"Katniss." I respond simply.

"If that girl went in with Haymitch, he could have died and you'd be sitting pretty with your wife. Or do you not trust him?"

"I trust him completely. Haymitch, as much as he is nerve wracking and into himself, does not deserve to die for my happy ending. He can accomplish things I can't imagine. So I'm not dying just for her pretty face, I am dying for him as well." I explain.

"You...are so strange. I like you, boy." He says.

We joke about drinking, talk about things we wish we would have done before going to this death match. We share similar habits, likes, and dislikes. I hope Haymitch plans on getting him out along side Katniss, because I find him to be the most human person I have met during my entire stint as a tribute. We walk over to Johanna who is still naked and smiling at me. She wags her finger in my direction as if to scold me for looking at her but to be perfectly honest, she could be on top of me and I would not bat an eyelash. That's how dedicated I am to Katniss.

"You're fiancee will come over here and kill me." She says, throwing a towel around her body.

"She trusts me." I respond, shrugging my shoulders.

"Even in the elevator, I couldn't get a reaction out of you. I got her to blush, but you, nothing. What does that girl do for you?" Johanna asks.

I smile and wink at her, feeling guilty for throwing Katniss's purity under the bus, but I don't want them to tease her anymore. Making friends here is much like school. Watch anyone for a few minutes and you can figure out how to handle them. Finnick and Johanna rest on their sexuality. Johanna is, however, a bit more bitter. Chaff just wants to be drunk and likes a good time. I calculate what to say, laugh, and generally begin to enjoy myself.

When lunch comes and I finally get to Katniss, She all but slices my throat. I take a deep breath and do what Haymitch has instructed, calming her down enough to get her to eat with me. I grab her hand under the table, easing her into to the friends I have created. She's quite, mostly, but it's not like she is ripping at my skin. I can see she's trusting me a little and beginning to loosen up, and I beam at my small victory.

Once we are in the dining room after training, I tease her about how everyone has forgotten about me after seeing her shoot. I know she hates when anyone showers her with attention but she has to get used to it since I have a limited number of days with her. I love that she is happy and seeing her send arrows into those targets was one of the most enlightening things I have witnessed to date. She just loses herself and you see a real smile lighting her eyes, filling her with all the joy I wish I could give her myself. It is perfect.

I am with Chaff again, who has become somewhat of my partner when Katniss isn't around. We sit back and watch her interact with the others, stealing a corner of the training room to just observed.

"I feel like I'm going to be too old for this." Chaff says, chewing the side of his mouth.

"Plenty of them are too old and broken. If he wanted to kill...never mind." I say, shaking my head.

"You know that he has to make a production of it. The people here...are obsessed with these games. It's reality television that they cannot touch their lives ever. It's the best form of torture for us." He explains.

"She thinks I'm going to live through this." I let slip.

"And you are upset because?" He says.

"I hate lying to her. Before I'm gone I want to be honest, but playing this game piles on secrets. You don't have to listen to this."

"I do. Haymitch is busy with his own projects, Katniss would kill you and him for crossing her trust, no one here cares if you are in the corner crying. Someone has to lend you an ear."

"Thanks."

"Any time. Me and you, have a bond. We are both missing limbs." He says, raising his stump.

"Ha, they want a good show but most of us are handicap. This is a mess."

"It sure is kid."

It takes me a few seconds to think of what I'll do during my fifteen minutes but I know once my decision is made, Haymitch will have wanted to light me on fire. I feel like I still owe something to Katniss, like she has been taking most of the heat. I decided that if I can make it seem like I am the true rebel, they will send out a hit man for me instead. I paint. My fingers doused in every shade I can think of, my back turned to my audience. I see Rue's face so clearly, her family who has paid dearly for a society who thrives on the death of their children. Once I am finished with my mural, I throw the paint at the wall closet to them and walk out, tears rolling down my face.

I cry, My shoulders shuddering. These innocent faces I haven't thought about in a while have all crept up on me in the most cruel way. I feel like they are my children, the ones I have raised from the time they first opened their eyes, held their hands while teaching them to walk, scared away the monsters for them. That's what I have to do, make them feel like they're own children are on the line. The Captiol's people have treated Katniss's and my relationship like it was their own family member's nuptials. If we were to be pregnant...They would hate Snow. I sigh, shaking my head at how long i've been standing here and collect myself to wait for Katniss, to wait for my future.

Katniss is no better than I am. She has also managed to seal our fate. I tell Haymitch that we want no other allies to make sure I set everything in stone. I have to applaud Haymitch and my performance. She thinks he is mad at us, which is slightly possible, but in reality the plan seems to be on track. When I walk her to her room, I don't make the first move. She wraps her arms around me and her head is against my chest. I let my hands wander up her spine until they find their ending place.

"I'm sorry if I made things worse." she says. I shake my head because she's perfect and this moment seems unreal.

"No worse than I did. Why did you do it anyway?" I ask.

"I don't know. To show them that I'm more than just a piece in their games?" She responds, using what I told her last year. I laugh because she remembered. I was so filled with angst and blinded by love alone. Now I have a little more to fight for besides Katniss.

"Me, too. And I'm not saying I'm not going to try. To get you home, I mean, but if I'm perfectly honest about it..." I trail off. I want to prepare her for the worse case scenario. If we all fail, no one is going home. We may only have these last few days with each other.

"If you're perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway," Katniss says as if she is in my head.

"It's crossed my mind." I allow, being a little vulnerable for the first time in front of her.

"But even if the happens, everyone will know we've gone out fighting, right?" I ask. It's more of a check that she is still in this to win, not giving up. I never know how to judge her properly so sometimes meaningless questions, though loaded with answers, have to be exchanged.

"Everyone will. So what should we do with our last few days?"

"I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you." I reply quickly.

"Come on then." she says and I am pulled into her room.

I love every moment of this, when I can step away from my thoughts. My fears slide away and knowing there is nothing else to be done before the games start is comforting. I can make this time count. The smell of coconut shampoo against my body, her talking about the best supplies to make a bow, then watching her play with my shirt, it's everything.

"Peeta..." She says with sleep on her lips.

"Yeah."

"What, what do you think our wedding would have been like?" she whispers. I have to make sure she is not hallucinating, looking at her for a few minutes to make i'm not crazy either. I look up at the ceiling and think for a few seconds. I would have hated our wedding, I think, because it wasn't real or the marked with the intimacy I wanted. It would have been like the opening ceremonies, a farce.

"Torture." I laughed.

"But, we'd be married right?"

"Of course I want to marry you, but the right way. Toasting...our own home. Not you in some ridiculous dress with fifteen pounds of makeup."

"Oh." she says. And with that, she finds sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

**Thanks Again for the follows! Review, suggest to your friends, or just keep reading :)**

When I'm sketching it is so easy to forget this world. The lines, created by my hand and bended by my will, never forces me to become something I am afraid of. They are meager and not ostentatious and they never ask too much of me. I think my pencil has been moving for about an hour before I realize that the position of Katniss's leg has changed, forcing me to make up what is not really there. Of course, I know every curve of her body, each divot that tells a unique story. I understand her demons more than she would like me to, and I am also acutely aware of why this seems too comfortable. We have nobody else to worry about because we could both be dead within another four days. The guilt and whatever else has kept us apart sort of melts in the face of demise.

"Were there other girls..." Katniss says in such an offhanded manner that I cannot even register the question properly at first. For her to ask at all begs me to wonder if she ever thought I would pick up and leave my feelings in the mud. I'm sure it may seem like I could be swayed to be with someone else, because to her, emotions are suppressible.

"Why?" I say, putting the pencil on the blanket.

"Just wondering."

"Other girls expressing interest? Yes, but it never changed anything at all." I say then get back to my drawing. Katniss isn't satisfied, however. I can understand this, for the most part. Knowing each other completely doesn't hurt, especially when your in the arena and the face next to you is the only piece of comfort you have to hold onto. She is my best friend. It is the first time I feel like the word fits somewhere next to her. It's only natural for questions to be posed, answers to be formulated. That's the part of this relationship we have trouble filling.

"Sam hates me, you know. He came to my house after the quell was announced." She states. I haven't heard this yet from her, but she never seems to bring up my family or friends. I think it's hard for her to face the reality that I have given them up so willingly when she claws at the chance to be with her own. It even makes me stop and look at myself in the mirror, wondering who I am and what makes me so certain this is right.

"What did he have to say?" I ask.

"He said you were stupid for choosing me again, that there were plenty of people who you also loved that you should be alive for. He said that he'd been your best friend since birth and that he wanted you at his wedding when he finally marries Sarah, he wanted you to be around when he had kids, and he wanted you to be there for your brothers who relied heavily on your courage and good sense." She recounted.

"We all make choices, Katniss. I don't have to justify mine to anyone." I mutter.

"I saw your family at the reaping Peeta. They looked heart broken. Did you tell them you were going to volunteer if Haymitch was picked?"

"I told them I wasn't coming home. Listen, I don't want you to feel responsible for anything. These things are far from your control. I know what I'm doing. Those games change you; I grew up from being a love sick teenager; I realized the things I couldn't quite get right the first time around, and now I am so certain about everything I do. Don't worry about them. We said our goodbyes."

I hate that I sound this way. It's insensitive of me to just throw them to the side for a girl. District 12 couldn't be my home anymore though. I felt so out of place and love is only one half of the deal. Katniss, understood the life we now had. You never stop feeling guilty for being a victor because it meant that 22 other people died at your expense. I couldn't hold a conversation without feeling like I sounded crazy. The way I use to relate to my brothers, Sam, or any of my friends took this sharp turn to where nothing we did together made any sense to me. I felt aged. I couldn't be carefree, but I desired it. I find it far easier to build a sense of happiness with someone who is just as screwed up as me. At least you will always be on the same page.

She doesn't bug me anymore, but instead of pulling away from me, she lays her head in my lap. My hands tangle themselves in her wavy locks, braiding the strands of hair and then letting them go. I try to memorize the texture, the way her eyes shut when the sun showers us with its light. I count the freckles on the ridge of her nose then look to her lean body. In a fantasy we'd be in our backyard. I would have finished painting her silhouette into my canvas. We would talk about nothing in particular, maybe the way the butterflies seemed to kiss our toes in the hazy hot weather. It would be perfect.

"What?" I hear her say and I realize I have stepped briefly out of reality.

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever." I say, slowly choosing my words.

"Okay." She responds, but in a way that makes my heart beat ten times faster. Permission to love her in the only thing I wanted from her before we went into this arena, in the most peculiar way, I have gotten it.

"Then you'll allow it?" I say, letting the bliss drip off of my words.

"I'll allow it." She replies. I place my fingers back into her hair.

We get into bed that night. I'm full of something I haven't been able to quite get figured out. Hope. Why would I be doused with hope when I am set up for failure? There is no way I will experience another day like that, where I could hold Katniss for what seemed to be a million years, and for her to just let me love her the way only I knew how. There is this spark though, tiny as it may be, coursing through my body. If I could somehow find a way to get us through this, would it be possible for more days spent lounging in each other's presence? Could I be given the chance to make her happy?

The inquiry from before seemed so out of place in our joy, but I am understanding what it means to her. She wanted a relief from the blame she had put herself under. It is only then she could let me into her life without feeling wounded and vulnerable to me. We could finally be on an equal playing field. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss the back of her exposed neck. She sighs and gets as close as possible, so only a few inches of our body are not touching.

"Prim, told me you were her favorite." Katniss says sleepily.

"Oh yeah? I'm glad." I answer.

"You sure know how to sway people. My mom even likes you a lot. I am glad that you let Prim come to your house even when I was busy trying to act like you didn't exist."

"She has nothing to do with what happened between us. She's a wonderful kid."

"You gave her that apron. It meant a lot to her."

"Well, she deserved it."

I hear her breath catch and I know she's asleep. I want to stay up and study everything that has happened but I know too well I won't sleep tomorrow night with the games in our immediate future. The pain of losing something you haven't completely gotten to experience is unbearable to me, but with her in my arms I feel so much stronger than I would have felt alone. I have given out chances to finally get this on track and in these final moments of freedom I am the happiest.

"You're my favorite too, Peeta." I hear her say in her sleep. I kiss her neck again and settle in for the night.

When I am in my room in the morning, I cannot believe what is laying unzipped on my bed. Portia just looks at me, eyes wide, hoping that she can salvage me for the camera. There are no tears but my anger flares in such a way that go into the bathroom and scream, banging my fist against the cold counter. What was he trying to get out of me? Public humiliation, a crucifixion? No, he wanted me off my game. With a few words I could hand him his ass, create mayhem, and I intended on doing just that.

"I'm sorry, Cinna and I tried to sway him otherwise." Portia says, standing cautiously in the doorway.

"But he was too busy trying to see if he could distract me. I know Portia. He's playing this game well." I answer.

"We need to get you ready. Haymitch wants a word." Portia whispers.

"We may not have another moment where I can talk to you by ourselves. Something tells me after tonight, Snow will make sure i'm not alone with anyone besides, Haymitch, Katniss, and myself. Don't get into to too much more trouble. Please. Anything you do could compromise your life at this point. You have been a blessing to my life." I say, as she helps me into the jacket.

"Thank you, And I have something to tell you as well. Please don't be too rash Peeta. You can't slump into madness, that's what he wants."

"I know."

"Then cool off for a few seconds, and show the world the Peeta I know. The one who is kind and vulnerable, not blood thirsty. The audience has always adored you." She advises.

Haymitch is standing outside of my door, shaking his head at the sight of me. I probably look stupid. Hair slicked back, gloves on my hands, no sign of a potential tribute in my whole wardrobe. He leads me down the hall as Portia mutters that she'll go find Effie who is no doubt waiting by the elevator to get us there in due time. It's her mechanism for seeing us in this position again. She relies on hiding everything by focuses on those schedules, because she has grown to care for us much more than she wanted.

"I need something Peeta." Haymitch says, stopping us briefly.

"During the interview?" I ask.

"Yes...I need you to...work something in your favor. I know Snow has instructed sponsors to steer clear of you two. They have to want to go against him, Peeta. Convince them to go against him to help you. A distraction...would also be nice. Make it real...Make it believable and do not tell her what your plans are before you go on. Alright, time for me to lead this circus downstairs." He adds and carts me over to the elevator.

When I see her coming, it's not as bad as I imagined. This is not Katniss. Her dress is far too elaborate, more like a doll than a real person. Her eyes dodge mine because I see how much it hurts. It's sort of a sting for both of us to be used this way. I grab her hand and she leans into me as the elevator sinks down into the building. When we get to our area, we stand there, unsure of what to say to one another.

If we would have succeeded, this would probably be our wedding day. Offstage, waiting for the cameras to shoot the nuptials, Caesar Flickerman handing me a handkerchief to wipe the tears. Puppets. We would have been miserable and better off dead. There are some tributes who get it, who know what the Capitol does to the victors in the after math of the games. They pat us on the back for dodging a future filled with scripted lines and no hopes for a better life, the pat us for the fact that our friendship is clearly going up in smoke. Finnick is possibly the only one who knows our situation best and Chaff was let in on the secret from Haymitch. They know this relationship has been heavily one sided and fabricated. Finnick's life has been a lie since he was given his title as victor. Ours has been constructed. Johanna stops to fix Katniss's necklace, a sympathetic expression crossing her eyes.

"Make him pay for it, okay?" she says, then turns to me, looking pointedly as if to say that I better have one hell of a way to ignite this fire. I think I do.

Everyone is asking for some way to cancel the games, reap new tributes. It's like our last pleas because we are all standing on one leg. What can we do besides present to the world why we shouldn't be in this arena again? Are we supposed to discuss strategy and honor when the games include none of it? Then Katniss steps on and her wedding dress makes the audience incoherent. They cannot stand their favorite couple going to the gallows.

Her stage presence isn't too shabby. She's not bitter but more mindful of her surroundings. Then she speaks, trembling like she is really upset about the wedding being canceled and that our time is up. Her acting skill have definitely improved, unless her remorse is real. I almost miss Cinna's big finale as I look at my hands. The out cries from the audience and the white dress that once encompassed Katniss is completely gone. Cinna has to know he is going to die for this and I let out a noise of what seems like desperation and pain. When it's my turn, I can barely slip past Katniss without want to grab her and run as far as I can. I straighten my jacket, look in the steal beam and try to get dig down deep for this to be perfect.

"Peeta Mellark! Ha Ha. Hello there, so how did you like Katniss's dress?" Caesar says, dusting a feather off of the side table.

"It's much like when we both tried to cook a turkey for a holiday dinner after we came home from the games. I may be a baker but we are both terrible cooks." I say laughing.

"Was there a fire as well?" Caesar asks.

"Not until we pulled the charred bird from the oven. Then we burned it in the fireplace because it was terrible to look at. I have to say though, fire looks so much better on her than it did a petrified bird." I respond.

I let my jaw shake and Caesar picks up on it immediately. I've avoided his eyes because I want him to ask me how i'm holding up. I've made sure I have referenced her in every sentence I have spoken thus far. I want people to hurt and feel the anger I am trying so hard to control. I narrow my thoughts, measuring each word as if it were the last thing I would ever hear myself say. We've been married, we're pregnant. Each confession feels so real because I have willed it to. I poor my heart out in front of them to hold them to the death of my nonexistent child. I could possibly be a father if they let me live. I still have a chance for it if they kill that president. The tears are coming down my face and I go back to Katniss, wounded and tired. Then something I don't anticipate happens. The Victors, all from different backgrounds, share a common tragedy. Being a child and victim of the capitol. Being the product of an audiences hunger for bloodshed and diversion from the real problem; The dictator they have admired and loved, the man who would kill them all in their sleep needs to go. Us victors hold hands to identify that we are not the people you should want dead, but the people you should want on your side.


End file.
